The Space Between
by MaggieMayI
Summary: A series of Kurt/Jane moments that take place during or between the first ten episodes. Based on the #BSHiatusFics prompts from Tumblr. Slightly AU.
1. Bleeding

_A/N: I noticed that some of you are posting stories based on prompts from Tumblr, so I crept over there and saw the different weekly challenges. To catch up, I decided to write a story where each chapter is based on one of the prompts (not in any particular order). My intention is to focus on little 'missing' moments during/between the first 10 episodes that will hopefully create one cohesive piece (fingers crossed) involving the evolution of Weller and Jane's relationship to date, or it will just be a series of one-shots strung together. May or may not ignore some portions of the episodes because… I do what I want :o) Therefore… please bear with me! And as always… thanks for reading!_

* * *

 _Chapter 1: Based on the prompt: Bleeding; set during episode 1x03_

* * *

"The space between the tears we cry,  
is the laughter keeps us coming back for more.  
The space between the wicked lies we tell,  
and hope to keep safe from the pain."

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

Blood.

It's all she can see. She watches as it slowly spreads from beneath his back over the hard wood of her floor, like fog lazily rolling over a murky sea.

It spreads steadily, the four bullets that precisely pierced his chest having inflicted their intended damage.

Drained of all energy, Jane slides to the floor, her back against the wall, as she watches the blood creep closer to her ink-stained feet.

Then she hears a faint drip… drip… drip. Feels the warm wet as it worms it's way down her chin and drops to the cold wood below. She looks down. Sees the bright red beads that land between her legs. Her hand unconsciously presses against her cheek. A sharp hiss at the pain leaves her lips as her tongue tastes the metallic tang of the offending substance exiting her gums.

She looks back at the bearded man then. A total stranger yet so familiar. She feels like she should feel something for him – for the loss of him – yet his presence in her safe house means no more to her than if it were a stranger off the street.

She knows he'd been following her… was here to try and warn her, but about what?

"We avoid detection. It's part of our training."

They trained together, she knew that much, but under what circumstances? He must have known a great deal about her life before all this if he risked entering her safe house to talk to her with the FBI posted right outside.

"Don't trust them."

'Don't trust whom?' she wondered. The FBI? Or the people who did this to her?

And who killed him? It couldn't have been the FBI. Her detail definitely did not include a sniper. If it did, they would have noticed her sneaking out. What exactly did this man know, and who didn't want her to know what he knew? Like every other clue to her past she'd succeeded in finding thus far, she'd reached another dead end. Literally.

Lost in her thoughts, trying desperately to make connections that weren't there, Jane jumped at a sudden pressure on her arm.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

Jane's bewildered eyes left the bearded man and settled on one of the agents from her detail.

"I knew him," she mumbled as her eyes left his and came to rest once again on the pooling blood.

"Are you hurt? Can you stand up?"

The agent tried to get Jane to respond, but she didn't hear a word he said. Lost in thought… in shock… probably a mix of both, she didn't move, not even when the warm liquid reached her toes. His blood, his death, like so many others, was on her. As her toes curled into the crimson pool beneath her, Jane absently wondered how many more would fall along the way.

* * *

Weller broke just about every law on his drive to Jane's safe house. Her detail called him regularly with updates, so when his phone rang, the last words he ever expected to hear were 'gunshots' 'dead body' and 'Jane injured and in shock.'

He parked haphazardly at the curb and took the stairs three at a time. He barreled through the door and found two agents in her entryway.

"She's through that way," one of them offered to Weller, as he pointed towards the kitchen.

Weller slowly made his way through the house, suddenly afraid of what he might find. Never one to delay the inevitable, Weller questioned himself once again as to why this woman had come to mean so much to him so quickly. He knew in his heart, in his gut, that Jane was his childhood friend, but if he was honest with himself, she'd gotten under his skin well before he'd spotted the scar on her neck. Jane had captivated him the moment he'd laid eyes on his name on her back.

Weller rounded the corner into her eating area. A flash of light from an agent taking photographs was the first thing that caught his attention, immediately followed by the man lying dead on the floor. He then noticed an EMT packing up her bag on Jane's table. He didn't see Jane anywhere.

"Where is she?" he asked no one in particular.

"She's in the bathroom cleaning up," the EMT replied.

"Is she okay?" he asked, with a worried look on his face.

"Some bumps and bruises, and a pretty good whack to her jaw that knocked out a tooth," the EMT replied. "She'll be sore, but otherwise she's okay… physically."

Weller nodded, his attention leaving the EMT and focusing on the bathroom doorway.

"Thanks," he replied absently as he made his way across the room.

* * *

She'd left the door open, so he only felt slightly like an intruder when he entered. He found her sitting on the side of the tub. He was instantly drawn to the intricate designs covering the canvas that was her skin. Her detail had mentioned the shower had been running when they'd found Jane and the mystery man. Weller hoped that accounted for her current state of undress… and not the stranger lying on the floor in the next room.

The sudden surge of jealousy he felt confused him, but he tamped it down and re-focused on Jane. Her feet dangled under the rush of faucet water, but she was doing nothing to scrub away the red that stained her skin. He watched as the blood swirled down the drain.

"Jane," he said tentatively.

She jumped at the vocal intrusion, but he saw relief flood her eyes as her gaze found his. He scanned her for any visible injuries, noting the redness of her right cheek, and the spots of blood that covered her face and arms.

"Hey," she whispered. "I just um… the blood…" she tried to explain, pointing at her feet, but words failed her.

"Here, let me help," he offered as he entered the small room further. He reached above her to grab the washcloth that was hanging next to her showerhead. He ran it under the water, and then soaped it up with the bar from her dish.

"Do you want to… or…" he asked as he offered the washcloth to her.

"I can do it, thanks," she replied, taking it from his hand.

"I'll grab you some clothes," he said when she started scrubbing her skin. "Once you're dressed, we can get out of here."

She nodded absently.

Weller left the bathroom and made his way upstairs to her bedroom. He opened her dresser drawers one by one, noticing the lack of clothing housed in each. He'd talk to Mayfair once everything settled down. Jane was going to need some decent clothes before winter hit.

Armed with a tank top, long sleeve T, socks, jeans, and her boots, Weller made his way back to the bathroom.

Jane had shut the water off and was passing a towel over her damp skin.

"Here, uh, if this isn't good, just let me know and I can grab something else," he said as he offered her the clothes.

"Thanks," she said, placing the pile on the back of the toilet. "This is fine."

"Wait a second, you missed a..." he pointed at her neck, just under her chin, where a few blood splatters remained.

"Oh, um..."

"Here let me..." he grabbed the washcloth and ran it slowly over her skin, careful not to press too hard on her injured jaw. She closed her eyes and turned into the hand that unconsciously came up to cup her face... to steady her as he wiped the death away. Once finished, Weller brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek before dropping both hands.

"All set," he said, clearing his throat.

"Thanks," she said, her haunted eyes meeting his own, before she turned and reached for her clothes.

He hovered in the doorway while she dressed, but his eyes were on the scene in her kitchen. He watched as two agents worked to take prints and collect evidence. Weller hoped they'd come across something that would help them figure out who this guy was.

"I'm ready."

Jane's voice had him turning his head.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"To headquarters," Weller answered. "We'll let the agents finish up here. Hopefully we'll have something to go on in the next few hours."

Weller made to leave, but he noticed Jane's hesitation.

"C'mon," he coaxed as he held out his hand. "It's going to be fine."

Jane shook her head with a small, sad smile, but nevertheless, placed her hand in his. He pulled her out of the bathroom, and then dropped her hand to place a protective arm around her shoulders – shielding her from the gruesome scene as they exited the kitchen and headed for the front door. He kept his arm around her until they reached his car at the curb.

* * *

Jane leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. She couldn't stop her mind from replaying the scene, but she felt better knowing Weller was by her side. She wasn't in any sort of state to think clearly about anything, but she couldn't help but notice that the times she she felt most comfortable were when she was in the field, and when she was by Weller's side… sometimes not in that particular order.

He was the only person she trusted. The only one who looked at her like she wasn't a puzzle to be solved.

"We're here," he said as the car came to a final stop.

Jane opened her eyes and found herself in the parking garage. They took the elevator up, and exited on a floor that Jane didn't recognize.

"Where are we?" she asked curiously.

"More offices, more departments," Weller responded, "but I thought you might want to rest somewhere away from our floor."

He led her down a hallway and opened a door to a darkened room. By flipping the switch, Weller revealed two sets of bunk beds and an old, beat-up couch.

"It's a good place to catch a nap if you're working long hours and don't have a chance to go home," Weller explained as he opened a closet and grabbed a few pillows. "Plus it's more comfortable than the couches upstairs."

Jane tentatively sat down on the edge of one of the beds.

"Get some rest, I'll come get you when we need you," Weller said as he made to leave.

"Wait, you're leaving?" Jane asked, standing immediately.

Weller could see the alarm and apprehension in her eyes.

"Reade and Zapata are clearing the scene right now," Weller explained. "Mayfair would like you to talk to Dr. Borden in a few hours so that we can go over all the details. Until then, we think you should get some rest."

"Wait, please…" the desperation in her voice was clear as day. "I don't think I can… I don't want to be… by myself," she finished weakly, unable to meet his eyes.

Weller hated to see her this way. Even though it wasn't directly his fault, he still felt responsible. The FBI was supposed to be able to protect her… to keep her safe. They'd failed miserably.

He walked towards the door and shut them both inside.

"Whatever you need," he said as he sat on the couch, "I'm here."

Jane exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding and nodded before sitting on the couch next to him.

"Don't you want to lay down?" he asked.

"I don't know how well I'll sleep… I think I'll just sit a minute," Jane said as she leaned back into the couch.

Weller shot a quick text to Mayfair regarding his whereabouts before closing his eyes and making himself more comfortable.

"Weller?" he heard her whisper a short time later.

"Yeah," he responded without opening his eyes.

"Thanks," she replied.

He lifted his eyelids and found her staring at him. He smiled and nodded his head.

She closed her eyes. Her breath evened out shortly afterward. Her head slowly lulled to the side as she fell deeper into sleep until it came to rest lightly on Weller's shoulder.

He opened his eyes to the sudden pressure and a small smile graced his face. He knew he should move, should let her lay down on the couch, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. Not yet. Instead, he grabbed the blanket that was slung over the back of the couch and did his best to cover her with the one hand he had free.

He set his alarm, leaned back, and closed his eyes.


	2. Nostalgia

"These fickle, fuddled words confuse me,  
like 'Will it rain today?'  
Waste the hours with talking, talking,  
these twisted games we're playing."

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

 _Based on the prompt: Nostalgia; set between episode 1x04 and 1x05_

* * *

Jane watched as Weller walked out of the conference room to follow Patterson across the floor. When his retreating form left her sightline, she was drawn back to the little girl on the computer screen in front of her. Her eyes scanned the photo once again, but her mind was still focused on Weller's reaction to seeing her five-year-old self. She'd never seen that smile before… or the nostalgic look in his eyes as he'd recounted the stories from their past. It made Jane desperate to want to remember something… anything that would provide a solid link to the most solid thing in her new life.

" _It's really nice to have you back."_

His words played over and over in her mind as she recalled not only the look in his eyes, but the feel of his hand on her back. His fingers had absently brushed against the scar on her neck before falling away, another tenuous tether to her past… another mystery that escaped her.

She closed her eyes then, tried to imagine her and Weller as kids. She pictured the wooden fort hidden in the woods behind their houses. Pictured chasing him around the neighborhood, doing her best to keep up. She could almost feel the wind whipping in her hair as she sprinted to stay with him. But had any of it been real?

Jane thought having a link to her past life would ground her… would allow her to steady herself and finally start to build a future. But being Taylor Shaw… it just didn't feel… right. Jane couldn't understand why, but it bothered her that while Weller was so absolutely sure about who she was, she felt no connection whatsoever to the girl staring back at her from the screen. She knew it was too much to believe that memories would simply come flooding back now that she had opened the door to her past, but she assumed that once she'd found some concrete evidence, she'd at least feel… something.

But she felt nothing. And the fact that Weller did… was overwhelming.

Jane wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting there trying to fill in the gaps, but the opening of the conference room door suddenly drew her attention away from the screen.

She looked up and spotted Weller. The funny grin he'd been wearing before was long gone, but his stare was just as intense as it always was.

"Hey," he said after clearing his throat. "I'm headed home for the night. Do you want a ride?"

"Sure," she responded, extracting herself from the chair. With one last look at the lost little girl, Jane closed the computer and followed Weller to the elevator.

* * *

The elevator ride to the parking garage was silent. They both seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. Not only was Jane's mind full of questions about Taylor Shaw, but she was also overwhelmed with just how close they'd come to contracting a devastating and deadly disease just a short time ago. In the heat of the moment it was easy to forget how high the stakes could be, but had she made it back to the terminal even one second later, both her and Weller would have been…

"What's wrong?" Weller asked, interrupting her morbid thoughts. He'd noticed that Jane had hesitated when the elevator had reached their level.

"Actually, thanks for the ride offer, but I think I'm going to hunt down my detail," Jane explained. The last thing she wanted right now was to go sit in an empty house. She needed to walk, needed to clear her head among the throngs of strangers that inhabited the city. "I might take a walk or something, clear my head a bit."

"Do you want some company?" Weller asked, taking her completely by surprise.

"Uh, sure," Jane replied, "that would be nice."

They got back in the elevator and Weller pressed the button for the lobby.

* * *

When they left the FBI building, Jane simply followed her feet like she normally did when ambling around the city. Weller was happy to let her lead the way.

The silence between them was anything but uncomfortable. Both were happy to take in the sounds of the city surrounding them.

"Do you do this a lot?" Weller asked then. "Take walks I mean?"

"I like to explore the city when I have time," Jane explained, careful to leave out the tiny part about how her detail didn't always accompany her on these adventures. "It's nice to blend in, to just be no one for a little while."

"But you're someone now," Weller responded.

Jane frowned at that, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Weller.

"What's wrong?" he asked, stopping her with a hand on her forearm.

"I don't know," Jane said, shrugging… averting his eyes, "It's… hard to explain."

"Try me," Weller challenged he prompted them forward once again.

How do you explain something you don't even fully understand? Jane wondered. She took a deep breath and tried anyway.

"The things that have happened to me, the experiences I've had since I was found, they've become part of me… part of who I am. But they were part of my past too… I just didn't know it until I knew it, you know?" Jane explained.

"Sort of," Weller replied with some confusion.

"Okay, so I can speak Chinese, right?" Jane tried to help him understand. "I didn't know I could do that until I figured out that I could, and when I did, it felt natural, it felt like it was a part of who I am, because it is. Same with the shooting… the fighting… now that I'm aware that these things are part of me, it all just feels normal. But being Taylor Shaw…" Jane paused, trying to find a way to explain without sounding ungrateful for finally having an important link to her past, "that natural connection that I feel to other parts of my past… for this, it's just not there."

The end of her statement was met with silence. She turned to Weller, watched as he mulled over what she was saying.

"Well this is all still very new, and this wasn't a memory or an action that led you to Taylor, it was DNA evidence, so maybe that's why you aren't making an instant connection," Weller said, desperate for an explanation.

She looked at him then… the hope so evident in his eyes. She just didn't have the heart to take that away from him.

"Maybe you're right," she relented, even though in her gut it just didn't feel true. "Maybe I just need more time to process everything."

"Just be patient Jane," Weller said. "It will come."

Jane nodded, not sure what else to say. He was utterly convinced that she was his long lost childhood friend. But realistically, the people who did this to her had access to highly classified and very sensitive information. Who's to say they couldn't swap out a DNA sample from an old missing persons file? Jane didn't dare suggest that though. She needed to find more substantial evidence before voicing her opinion on the matter.

"Will you tell me more about her? Err… me?" she asked then, steering the conversation back to safer ground. "Maybe it will help me remember."

"Sure," Weller said, smiling. He instantly launched into a story about a game of hide-n-seek.

"You were really good at hiding," he said laughing. "And no matter how long it took me to find you, you never made a peep, and you never left your hiding spot. There was this one time when I was watching you at night, and we decided to play before you were supposed to go to bed. I don't know how you did it, but you'd wedged yourself underneath this giant, old buffet that your mom had in the dining room. I must have looked for you for over thirty minutes before I found you… and when you tried to get out, you got stuck. I was still trying to pull you out when your mom came home. You didn't see her face when she found us but I could tell she was trying really hard not to laugh. Of course by the time we got you out, the stern speech she gave you made sure you never went under there again, but I know she thought it was hilarious."

Jane couldn't help but smile along with Weller at the memory. Him telling stories like this, it was a side of him she'd never seen. His eyes were alive with light and his smile was so genuine. She knew, without really knowing him, that this was rare. She cherished every moment of it.

He continued to tell her little stories as they slowly made their way back to the FBI. The memories he shared didn't trigger any memories of her own, but they did teach her a lot about Weller. She found she liked this softer, gentler side of him.

When they reached headquarters, she followed him back to his car and he gave her a ride to her safe house.

"Thanks," Jane said as he pulled up in front.

"You know who's really good at telling stories?" he asked, stopping her as she made to get out of the car.

"Who?" she asked.

"My sister Sarah." He replied. "I'm sure she'd love to meet you, you should come over for dinner."

"Dinner?" Jane asked, suddenly anxious. It was one thing for Weller to share these candid moments, but meeting his sister was a whole different story. "Well… I um…"

"It would be nice to eat a home cooked meal, wouldn't it?" he asked, trying to reason with her… to ease her apprehension.

Jane smiled then, thinking about her fridge full of takeout boxes.

"Yeah, it would," she answered honestly. "I'm not much for cooking."

"Dinner it is then," he said, making it final. "Come over tomorrow at seven. Sarah will be ecstatic."

"Okay," she agreed, getting out of the car. "Thanks for the walk... and the stories." she said once on the sidewalk.

"Anytime Jane," Weller replied. "See you tomorrow."

She shut the door then, and watched as he drove down the street.

Suddenly the scene changed to a dusty road lined with old trees that groaned as a gust of summer wind blew through their leaves. She was running as fast as she could, but no matter how fast she went, the shadow of the boy running in front of her grew more and more distant. Finally she stopped in defeat to catch her breath, his laughter leaving her in the dust.

As quickly as she left, Jane was back on the street in front of her safe house. Adrenaline still rushed through her system and she was breathing heavily, just like the little girl from her memory. Was it a memory? Jane wondered. Or was it simply a product of her imagination brought on by all the stories she'd heard that day?

Once she caught her breath, Jane turned and walked into the house, hoping… for his sake as much as hers… that it was real.


	3. Gravestone

"We're strange allies with warring hearts,  
what a wild-eyed beast you'll be.  
The space between these wicked lies we tell,  
and hope to keep safe from the pain."

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

 _Based on the prompt: Gravestone; set during episode 1x05_

* * *

The team watched Carter walk away with Dodi until they were out of sight. Only then did they holster their weapons.

Mayfair was instantly on the phone, calling in the HAZMAT team. Weller, Reade and Zapata were on their phones as well, coordinating with headquarters to wrap up the rest of the loose ends. Knowing they weren't going to be able to go anywhere for a while, Jane took a seat on the curb.

'Carter is right,' she thought to herself as she watched everyone work. As much as she felt like part of the team, at the end of the day she really was just a glorified mascot. She was limited in so many ways… relegated to the sidelines unless her special skill set was required.

Too restless to sit still any longer, Jane left the curb and started wandering through the cemetery. Row by row her gaze touched upon headstones… the last remnants of the no longer living. She wondered briefly what would be written on her gravestone if she were to die today. Sure she shared DNA with a five-year-old missing girl, but she doubted 'Taylor Shaw' would grace her final remarks. Too much had happened since the fateful night she'd disappeared.

'Jane Doe? How sad would that be?' she thought. Jane Doe, the FBI mascot…kicker of ass and taker of names. Don't know when she was born, but she's definitely dead. Thank you for your limited service.

Now Jane understood the draw of cremation.

She continued reading as she wandered around. 'devoted mother,' 'loving husband, father and friend,' 'adoring son,' and on and on. Jane fell deeper into her self-inflicted despair as she continued to walk along. She was no one, she had nobody, she was nothing. Her slate would be blank.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Weller's voice brought Jane back to reality. She turned and met his eyes, and then looked past him to the swarm of agents all the way down the hill. She watched as HAZMAT started to assemble a quarantine area around the Cesium-137.

"Sorry," she said then, her gaze directed back at his. "Couldn't sit still down there. I didn't realize how far I'd walked."

"It's okay," Weller responded, noticing the far-off look in her eyes. "Reade and Zapata are checking the plots of all of the names from our list to make sure there's no more Cesium hidden in the cemetery. Once HAZMAT is set up, we'll need to have our blood tested for radiation poisoning, but we have a bit of time before they'll be ready."

Jane nodded, her attention leaving his to rest on one of the gravestones in front of her. It read 'loving mother.'

"Does… Emma Shaw have a gravestone?" she asked suddenly, throwing Weller completely off guard.

He waited until her eyes found his again before shaking his head sadly.

"When she died, her will stated that she wanted to be cremated," Weller explained.

Jane laughed, thinking that if Emma Shaw was her mother, they at least had one thing in common.

Weller looked at her with complete confusion.

"Sorry," Jane said, shaking her head, "I just… never mind." She cleared her throat, "So, is she… um… where is she?" Jane asked.

Weller moved to stand beside Jane.

"Do you remember the creek I told you about behind our houses?" he asked.

She nodded, her mind drawn back to the little girl from the computer screen.

"Well, it stretched through most of the town," Weller explained. "There was a park a few blocks away from our street that had a really pretty view. There was a huge willow tree on the edge of the creek with a bench underneath it. Your mom… Emma… loved to sit there while you were playing on the playground. When she passed, Sarah and I spread her ashes there."

Jane tried to picture the scene in her head. She imagined a beautiful summer day, a slight breeze pushing around the weeping boughs of the willow tree. A young woman sitting underneath, one eye on her book, the other on a little girl climbing on the monkey bars and swinging on the swings. It all seemed so perfect… she wanted so badly for it to be true.

"I wish I could remember," she murmured.

"It will come back Jane, just…"

"Give it time, I know," she frustratingly interrupted him.

"You did remember something earlier," Weller pointed out.

Her gaze quickly shifted to his and he watched as the fear flooded her eyes.

"Can you tell me what you saw?" he prodded.

"I don't know…" Jane said, shaking her head. She'd momentarily forgotten about the flashes from her past, but his reminder brought those feelings of fear back to the forefront of her mind.

"It's okay Jane," he said, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder. "I'm here… you can tell me."

They stood silently next to one another, his hand on her shoulder, both looking at, without seeing, the gravestone in front of them. After a few moments of silence Weller figured she wasn't going to say anything, but then she suddenly started to talk.

"It was just flashes," she said, "like a camera taking photos. Flash images of what had happened… each propelling me further ahead. My hand was in his. I couldn't see his face, just his hand and his arm, but I didn't resist it. I didn't resist him leading me wherever we were going. At first we were walking down a staircase like in a house, but then it became a staircase in a different place… more like a warehouse."

She paused then, the tears threatening as she replayed the scene in her head, all of those children… so many lives destroyed. The pressure of his hand as it left her shoulder to slowly rub up and down her back reminded her that she wasn't alone.

"He reached out and opened a door at the bottom of the staircase," she continued. "Behind it was a large room… damp and dark. There were rows of beds, some had frames, some were just mats on the floor, and there were children… sitting… lying down. They were completely lifeless… like the will to live had been sucked out of them. I can still see their faces…"

She felt the tears as they slid down her cheeks.

"Do you remember anything else, any details you might not have noticed before?" Weller asked as he continued to rub her back.

Jane forced herself to play the scene again in her mind. She tried to look at it with clinical detachment, to see it from an investigators point of view… but it was the memory of a child. The only things she could see or feel were fear and horror. Everything else was blurry.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's all a blur, except for their faces."

"It's okay, Jane," he said soothingly. "We'll figure this out, I promise."

The sudden ringing of his phone made her jump. His hand left her back to grab his phone from his pocket and she instantly missed the contact.

"Weller," he answered as he walked a few steps away.

Jane took the opportunity to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Okay, we're on our way," he said before disconnecting the call.

"HAZMAT ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "They're testing Reade and Zapata now. We're up next."

"Okay," she said, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

They walked together back down the hill.


	4. Misunderstanding

"Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster,  
you know you went off like a devil in a church  
in the middle of a crowded room.  
All we can do, my love is hope we don't take this ship down."

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

 _Based on the prompt: Misunderstanding. Set between episode 1x06 and 1x07. This one's definitely AU._

* * *

Weller and Jane rode the elevator down in silence. Compared to the awkward encounters they'd experienced throughout the day, the silence was relatively comfortable, but Jane was still attempting to create some professional boundaries with Weller, so she didn't dare utter a word.

Her thoughts returned to Ana then. She was a strong girl, and Jane knew she'd be okay on her own. But she also now better understood how quickly one could become invested in someone. Jane figured the reason she'd latched onto Ana is because she had little to no control over her own situation, but she had the ability to help Ana with hers. Jane wished that were why Weller was so invested in her case, but the reality was he was most likely just hell bent on protecting his childhood friend.

The bell dinged overhead for the parking garage, breaking Jane from her thoughts. She made to step off the elevator when suddenly her phone chirped.

"Mayfair wants me back upstairs," Jane said, answering Weller's wondering gaze. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow," she offered, stepping aside so that he could exit.

"See you tomorrow Jane," Weller offered as he watched her disappear behind the closing doors.

Jane waited until the doors closed fully before pressing the button for their floor. As the elevator started moving she took a deep breath, wondering exactly what it was Mayfair had to tell her.

* * *

"I don't understand," Jane said as she looked from the test results to Mayfair and Patterson back to the file again. "So am I Taylor Shaw or…"

"The tests are inconclusive," offered Patterson. "Your DNA test is a 99.9% match to Taylor Shaw's DNA, but the isotope test we ran on your tooth indicates that you were born, and spent your early childhood, in Sub-Saharan Africa. They directly contradict one another so we can't say for sure."

"Is there any way to find out?" she asked.

"Not unless we can learn more about your past," Patterson responded.

Jane closed her eyes for a moment, replaying all of her childhood memories that had surfaced thus far. None of them gave a clear indication of who she was or where she was from. It may have been Taylor Shaw being pulled from that bed and down that staircase, or it could have been a completely different little girl, half way around the world.

"Has Weller seen this?" Jane asked.

Silence filled the room as Jane watched Patterson and Mayfair glance at one another.

"So that's a yes," she answered for them. "How long? How long has he known? How long have you all known?"

"I ran the isotope test right after we recovered your tooth from your… altercation at your safe house," Patterson explained. "I gave Weller the results after your case with the CDC."

Jane was instantly furious. She remembered the exact moment Patterson was referring to. He'd left her in the conference room with that gentle smile on his face, the light in his eyes, and he'd returned a short time later looking totally perplexed. And then he'd had the nerve to keep feeding her stories about Taylor, about her past, like he was still completely convinced that she was that little girl. He'd even invited her over to his house to meet his family! He was supposed to be her friend. She couldn't believe he'd kept this from her.

She stood abruptly then, pushing away from Mayfair's desk.

"I gotta go," she mumbled as she made a beeline for the door.

"Jane… wait," Patterson called after her, but Jane didn't turn around.

* * *

The whiskey burned as it slid down Jane's throat, but she paid no mind. Bourbon was smooth to sip, but right now she preferred the bite of the whiskey, which cut at her insides, momentarily interrupting her morbid thoughts.

When in a drinking mood, Jane usually grabbed a bottle on her way home, but tonight, she didn't want to be alone. Being lonely was one thing… but being lonely and alone… tonight she just didn't have it in her.

She had bellied up to the bar about an hour ago.

"Whiskey, straight, make it a double… and keep'em coming," were the only words she'd uttered since sitting down. Jane wasn't sure how many she'd thrown back, but for the first time in her new life, she was up to the challenge of fully testing her alcohol tolerance.

The burn of the potent liquid was slowly numbing her insides, she just wished it would hurry up and numb her thoughts as well.

She kept replaying everything in her head that had happened since Patterson had revealed that she was Taylor Shaw. Every glance, every stare, every time Weller looked at her with that long-lost longing in his eyes. Like he and she had been playing the ultimate game of hide-and-seek and he'd finally found her, finally laid his hands on the prize, and was absolutely unwilling to let her out of his sight again.

Then she thought about the results of the isotope test. She just couldn't understand why he didn't tell her. Why would he keep such an important detail from her? She'd been wracking her brain for weeks, trying to remember something, anything about her childhood… anything that would link her to the man who was slowly becoming her whole world. But there was nothing. And now Jane was beginning to understand why.

She raised her hand towards the bartender, signaling for a refill, when suddenly she felt someone beside her.

"Make it two," he said as he took the seat next to her.

Jane's insides jolted at the sound of his voice, the sudden proximity of him to her, but she refused to acknowledge him. She'd never felt rage like this before. Ignoring him was the easiest way to avoid the anger that was threatening to explode from inside.

He surprised her by honoring her unspoken wish for quiet. They sat and drank in a silence that was anything but companionable, but at least he didn't push her, because she had no idea how she'd react if he did.

Coincidently, it didn't take long for her to find out. When she raised her hand for another refill, he interrupted, waving off the bartender, citing that she'd had enough.

Jane snapped.

"What the hell," she said, finally acknowledging him

Jane, you need to slow down," he replied.

"You have no idea what I need," she spit back at him as she reached over and grabbed his half-filled glass. She finished it in one big swallow.

"Another," she said to the bartender passing by. Her gaze never left her glass, and once full, she held onto it with two hands so that Weller couldn't take it from her. But he ended up getting his own refill as well.

"Jane…"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, interrupting whatever it was he was trying to say. She was by herself. She hadn't called him, or anyone else. Where had he come from?

"Your detail called me," he replied. "They were worried about you."

"That's a lie," she said, laughing in his face. Sure they had to do her bidding when she imposed it upon them, but she was a job to them, nothing more.

"What are you doing here Weller?" she asked angrily, her eyes meeting his for the first time since he'd arrived.

She called him by his last name, something she never did unless they were in the field. She watched with satisfaction as he recoiled slightly in surprise. She had him backed into a corner and he knew it.

His eyes dropped to the floor and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Mayfair called me," he replied.

She shook her head with a cynical half laugh and turned back to her drink. The large gulp she took burned the back of her throat and brought tears to her eyes, at least that's what she told herself. She wasn't going to fall apart in front of him. Not again, not over this.

"Look Jane, this is all a big misunderstanding…"

"A MISUNDERSTANDING?" she shouted at him. "YOU LIED TO ME! YOU LIED TO MY FACE!"

"Jane, I didn't mean…"

"I don't need your excuses Weller," she interrupted. "I don't need any of this. Just… leave me alone, please…" she finished weakly, turning back to her glass once again. She was furious… furious with him, but even more so with herself because she was suddenly fighting a huge internal battle.

Jane wanted so badly to stay strong, to shut him out, to fight back against him for what he'd done to her, but as the whiskey invaded her brain, so did the thought that if she wasn't Taylor Shaw, then she was nothing to him. Weller had become everything to her… and she needed to be something to him… she couldn't lose him.

"Will you please let me explain?" he asked.

Her nonresponse prompted him to keep talking.

"I didn't tell you about the isotope test because the evidence wasn't conclusive," he started. "I didn't want you to lose the connection to your past if the results ended up being inaccurate."

She met his eyes then, could see the desperation in them.

"Weller," she responded, sighing, "I'm doing my best to understand why you want me to be Taylor Shaw so badly, and I understand the need for closure, but you're a smart man. You've seen what these tattoos have led us to. Whoever did this to me, you've seen the depth and the reach that they have. You don't think they had the capability to swap out the DNA evidence from the Taylor Shaw case? To match it to mine? To make you believe that I was her?"

She watched the realization flood his eyes, the defeat invade his posture as he slumped further in his seat. Jane was baffled that the thought hadn't crossed his mind before.

"This isn't about what I want," he responded weakly. But she knew that wasn't true. For the first time since she'd met him, his walls had finally dropped some. She saw pieces of the broken man before her. The boy who'd lost his best friend, who'd never gotten over the trauma. The fact that she was sitting in front of him was an answer to all his prayers. And she had just ripped that fantasy away from him.

"Then what DO you want?" she asked.

He took a slow sip of his drink before replying, "I want to help to solve the riddles that cover your body. I want to help figure out who you are, and what happened to you."

It was the standard issue governmental response. He was so conditioned to be the savior, to help those who couldn't help themselves. It broke her heart to see this broken man always fixing everyone before himself.

"No Kurt, what do YOU want?" she asked again, placing her hand on his arm.

"What are you asking me Jane?" he asked, looking down at their tenuous connection.

"When you look at me, what do you want?"

He eyes returned to hers and they held an intensity she'd never seen before.

She figured he'd brush off her question like he usually did when she asked him to be brutally honest, so she was surprised when he started to speak.

"I want to believe that you are her," he said shrugging, "that after 25 years I finally got Taylor back. I want to believe that all the years I've spent looking for her… for you… haven't been for nothing. I want to move on with my life."

"And if I'm not her?"

The question slipped out before Jane could stop herself. She knew he could see the vulnerability in her eyes, and she instantly regretted asking him.

His gaze dropped to her hand still resting on his arm. He took it in his, threading his fingers between hers.

"We'll figure it out," he responded simply, squeezing her fingers. "My name is on your back for a reason. Whether it's because you're Taylor Shaw, or for some other reason, it'll be there forever. And so will I. We'll figure this out Jane… all of it, and I'm not going anywhere until we do. I promise you that."

Jane nodded, unable to speak. Her emotions were all over the place and the whiskey wasn't helping. She'd been beyond mad at him just a few moments ago, and now, she wanted nothing but for him to pull her into his embrace. She settled for her hand incased in his though.

The bartender came by then, asking if they wanted anything else to drink. Jane shook her head.

To her disappointment, Weller extracted his hand from hers in order to grab his wallet and pay the tab.

"Do you want a ride?" Weller asked once he'd settled up, an echo from their earlier conversation.

"My detail is outside, thanks though," Jane replied.

They stood from the bar then and he led her out with a hand at the small of her back. He walked her to her detail's car and opened the back door for her.

She slid inside then looked back up at him looking down at her.

"See you tomorrow?" he asked, his hand still on the door.

She heard the question in his statement. He wanted to know if they were okay. Part of her was still very upset that he'd kept the isotope results from her, but at least he'd opened up to her so that she could better understand why.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He'd asked for her forgiveness and she'd given it to him.


	5. Anniversary - Vacation

"But the space between where you're smiling high,  
is where you'll find me if I get to go.  
The space between the bullets in our firefight,  
is where I'll be hiding, waiting for you.

The rain that falls splash in your heart,  
ran like sadness down the window into your room.  
The space between our wicked lies,  
is where we hope to keep safe from pain."

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

 _Based on the prompt: Vacation/Anniversary (combined the two). Set after episode 1x08. AU._

* * *

Jane felt lighter than she had in weeks, so happy to be able to feel normal, even if it was for just a few hours. Even though she couldn't remember, Jane doubted that she'd had many, if any, girlfriends before her memory wipe. The skills that she'd developed, the type of training she'd been involved in, probably didn't leave much time for coffee dates and trips to the mall.

After dropping Patterson off at her apartment, Jane was headed back home with her detail. The rain had calmed some, but it was still lightly sprinkling. The heat from the day mixed with the cold water hitting the streets was creating a glowing fog that covered the surface of the city. Jane rested her head against the glass and watched as the cars cut through the thick blanket of white.

Finally they reached her street, and for once, Jane was glad to be home. The day had been a long one, and she was ready to crawl into bed. As they approached her house however, she realized someone was sitting on the front stoop. As they pulled to the curb, she realized that person was Weller. Her heart instantly jumped, fatigue forgotten. Jane wondered what he was doing there so late at night… or at all for that matter. He'd never just shown up at her safe house for no reason.

"Thanks guys," Jane offered as the car came to a stop and she climbed out. Weller's head was hung low, but she watched it snap up as she shut the car door.

"Hey," she said, in a slightly confused tone, as she walked towards him. She noticed that he seemed quite soaked just sitting there in the rain. She wondered how long he'd been there, immersed in the elements.

"Hey," he responded, standing at her arrival.

She walked by him and unlocked the door, choosing to get him out of the rain before pestering him with questions about his presence.

He followed her into the house, and then stood awkwardly in the foyer, not sure what to do, or where to go, considering he was dripping wet.

Jane made a beeline for the bathroom and came back with a few towels. He ran a towel through his hair as she ran upstairs.

She came back down with an oversized FBI t-shirt in her hand.

"Give me your coat and shirt," she said and held out her hand. He shrugged off his coat and traded her for the t-shirt. He pulled his shirt over his head and passed it off as well.

Jane couldn't help but stare as he revealed his skin to her. The sudden urge to run her hands over the sharp planes of his chest, shoulders and back startled her. He caught her staring as he pulled the dry shirt over his head, and offered a half smile. Busted, she let out an awkward half laugh and scurried away to the dryer... cheeks burning. She popped his wet clothes inside as he threw on the dry shirt.

She came back and took the wet towel from him. "I'm sorry, I don't have any pants that would fit you, otherwise…"

"It's okay Jane," Weller interrupted, "I wasn't really thinking about the weather when I stopped by. I'll be fine."

She nodded, and then gestured for him to join her in the kitchen. He followed her in, and covered one of her chairs with the other towel before sitting down. She threw the wet towel he'd handed her in the hamper, and then grabbed two glasses and the half-filled bottle of bourbon from her shelf.

As Weller poured them two generous helpings, Jane walked over to the thermostat and ticked it up a few degrees, before sitting down next to him. Glasses full, she raised hers to his. The clink echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen.

Jane savored her long, slow sip. Of all the drinks she'd had tonight, this moment reaffirmed that bourbon really was her favorite… not that she didn't enjoy Patterson and Zapata's attempt to prove otherwise. She returned her glass to the table and ran her finger slowly over the rim… waiting for Weller to say something.

She watched as he took another sip of his drink. He lowered his glass to the table and then raised his eyes met hers.

"We're friends, right?" he asked.

She could see the vulnerability in his eyes, and her heart rate picked up. She realized he was trying to open up to her.

"Of course," she responded with a smile, mimicking his response when she'd asked him the same question not so long ago.

"I had a conversation with my father tonight," he offered, his eyes dropping back down to his glass.

Jane didn't say anything. She was aware that he and his father had a very tenuous relationship, but she knew practically nothing about it.

"We… hadn't spoken in a very long time," he continued.

"Why not?" Jane asked. She figured if he was opening up, she might as well try to get the whole story.

"Well, like I told you before, when Taylor Shaw went missing, my father was the only suspect," he replied. "No evidence was ever found to implicate him in the disappearance, but he'd lied about his alibi."

Jane nodded as she took another sip of her drink.

"It was difficult because even though the police couldn't prove anything, the suspicion hung over his head," he continued. "Days passed, weeks, months… years… and you didn't come back, you weren't found… and everyone continued to suspect him."

Jane inwardly jumped a little at the word 'you'. She still wasn't fully convinced she was Taylor Shaw, and it made her feel uncomfortable when her referred to her as such. But she ignored the feeling in favor of him continuing his story.

"So what happened?" she asked.

"Our family fell apart," he shrugged as his eyes found hers again. "My mother left my father, the neighbors shunned him. The longer you were gone, the more everyone believed that he was responsible. They needed to blame someone and he became that person."

"You blamed him too." It was a statement, not a question, and he didn't disagree with her.

"I was 10. I'd lost my best friend. Everyone around me was pointing fingers at my father. I was hurting and it was easier to blame him than to defend him."

"And you continued to blame him, at least until I showed up that is?"

He nodded. "I left home after high school and never went back. I went over 15 years without seeing my father, without talking to him. When I joined the FBI, one of the first things I asked was to look at the Taylor Shaw case. I spent weeks pouring over every detail, trying to find any explanation for your disappearance, but it was like everyone had said… you just vanished. I don't know what happened that night, but someone does. It could have been my father, but it just as easily could have been someone else."

"And now? What's changed?" she asked.

"Well, not a whole lot really," he said with a laugh.

Jane just looked at him confused.

"My father is sick… has cancer," Weller explained. "And Sarah… well, she's been pestering me for months to see him, to talk to him. She says that I'll regret it if I don't talk to him before he…"

Jane reached her hand out and placed it over his. His eyes shot to hers.

"I'm sorry Kurt," she said.

He smiled as he turned his palm over to take her hand in his.

"It's okay Jane."

"So what did you talk about?" she asked. "Does he know about me?"

Weller nodded.

"We talked a little about his treatments," he said. "There's nothing the doctors can do to stop the spread of the cancer at this point, but they are trying to slow it down. So far the treatments look promising."

He paused to take a sip of his drink. "And we talked a little bit about you. He knows about you, and that your DNA is a match to Taylor Shaw's. He doesn't know about the isotope test though. I figure if he dies knowing that Taylor Shaw is alive and well…"

"I understand," Jane said squeezing his hand.

"Anyway, the reason my dad was at my apartment is because Sawyer is on vacation from school right now and Sawyer and Sarah are heading back to PA with him in the morning."

"What for?" Jane asked.

"It's the anniversary of Taylor Shaw's disappearance."

The silence hung heavy in the kitchen as the implication of that sank in. Jane flashed back to her memory of blindly following the man in the stairwell, but it was the same as it always was – just a little girl being led by a man that she couldn't identify.

Jane cleared her throat and took another sip of her drink.

"Why would they go back to Pennsylvania for that?" Jane asked.

"Every year there's a memorial held in Taylor's honor," Weller explained. "They hold a service in town and a luncheon afterwards. At first, it seemed like the whole town would show up. It got smaller once your mom… Emma… passed. But it still happens every year."

"If everyone blames your dad for Taylor's disappearance, then why would he go?" Jane wondered.

"Because he says he's innocent, always has, and he wants to prove to everyone that he is. He thinks if he goes to the memorial, people will believe him."

"Do they?"

"Sarah says that some people have come around, but others still think he's responsible."

"It takes a lot of strength to show up to something like that knowing that people will think the worst of you," Jane surmised.

"Yeah… it does," Weller agreed.

"How come you're not going with them?" Jane asked.

Weller just shook his head. "I've never gone to the memorial."

"Not once?" Jane asked, completely surprised by his admission.

"No," he answered.

"Why not?" she wondered.

"I think that if I ever went, I'd be truly accepting that you were gone. So far I haven't been able to bring myself to do that."

"And what about now?" Jane asked.

"Now…" Weller paused to think about it. "I guess it could go one of two ways. If you are Taylor Shaw, I don't need to go to the memorial because you're here. You're found. And if you're not… it means she's still out there somewhere, and I'll keep looking until I know for sure."

Jane nodded.

Done with what he'd come to tell her, Weller picked up his glass and took a long sip. Jane followed his lead, finishing hers.

"I want you to know how glad I am that you came over tonight, that you told me all this," Jane said as she placed her empty glass back on the table, "but I have to ask… why now? Why tell me all this?"

Weller glanced down at their joined hands.

"I know that I haven't made things easy between us lately..." she rolled her eyes when his eyes returned to hers, making him smile. "But you were right," he continued, "what you said on the plane ride back from Michigan. We are in this together. And whether you're Taylor Shaw or not, I thought you should know about the memorial… about what the town does every year. And I wanted you to know about me, and how Taylor's disappearance affected my family... my life. It might help you to better understand why I… react the way I do sometimes… why I'm protective…"

"I can take care of myself," Jane replied automatically.

"I _know_ ," Weller responded, "you know I know that, Jane. But I can't lose you... not again…"

As his words trailed off his hand tightened around hers. All Jane could feel was the beating of her heart and the weight of his hand in hers. His eyes were the clearest she'd ever seen them, openly showing her all his insecurities, and pleading with her to understand.

Her heart ached. Not only for the man before her, but for that 10-year-old boy who'd lost his whole world. Jane couldn't imagine what Weller had gone through... what he was still going through. He hadn't been able to stop it then... hadn't been able to protect her. But he could now. Whether she was Taylor or she wasn't, he was capable of protecting her. And she somehow knew that even if she wasn't his childhood friend, he'd never stop protecting her.

Unable to hold her stare any longer his eyes dropped back to the table, and their hands.

"I can take care of myself," she said again, then.

"Jane," Weller said, pleading, closing his eyes.

"Kurt," she interrupted him. "I CAN take care of myself. But I want you to know that you make me feel safe."

His eyes snapped open at her admission.

"I feel safe, Kurt... when I'm with you..." she said as she ran her thumb lightly over the back of his hand.

Weller's eyes widened and hers instantly became lost in his. It might have been her imagination but she could swear as they continued to stare at one another, she felt his hand pulling her ever so slightly towards him. Never breaking eye contact, she let herself slowly lean in...

"BEEP BEEP BEEP... BEEP BEEP BEEP."

Jane and Weller both jumped, the trance instantly broken. Weller cleared his throat as Jane rushed to get up from the table to turn off the dryer's incessant beeping.

"We get it, you're done," she mumbled as she opened the door and removed Weller's clothes.

When she turned around he was standing next to the table, half smile on his face, his finished drink in his hand.

"Trade you," she said as she walked over with his shirt and jacket.

He handed her the glass and she placed his along with hers in the sink as he put on his coat.

She grabbed the now almost empty bottle of bourbon and placed it back on the shelf, and then followed him to the front door.

He opened the door, and then turned to face her in the entryway.

"Thanks for listening tonight Jane," he said, once again taking her hand in his and squeezing it. "I really appreciate it."

"Anytime," she replied, "really."

He offered her one last smile, dropped her hand, and turned and walked into the swirling fog.

Sighing, Jane closed and locked the door. She had no idea what to do with this man. One minute he's pushing her away, the next minute he's pulling her impossibly close… literally. He was turning her into an emotional mess and she had no idea what to do about it.

Knowing she wouldn't be able to rectify anything that night, she returned to the kitchen to tidy up. She went to grab the towel off Weller's chair, and suddenly realized that he'd left his shirt sitting there. She ran back to the door and out into the night, but a glance either way down her sidewalk showed that he was long gone. She walked back into the house, locked the door once more, threw the wet towel in the hamper, turned off the lights, and walked upstairs.

Jane methodically brushed her teeth, stripped off her clothes, and grabbed a tank from her dresser. She was about to put it on when her eyes came to rest on his shirt.

'If he asks where it is tomorrow, I'll just tell him it's in with the wash,' she thought to herself as she picked it up and threw it over her head.

That night she slept soundly, swimming in the scent of fabric softener, fall rain, and Kurt Weller.


	6. Dream

_A/N – Technically didn't squeeze this in before the hiatus was over, but still wanted to finish out the prompts for this story. I am happy that we do know who Jane is now though *spoiler alert* so I am going to take slight advantage of that knowledge!_

* * *

"Take my hand because we're walking out of here,  
oh, right out of here, love is all we need, dear."

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

 _Based on the prompt: Dream. Set after episode 1x09._

* * *

The first thing she felt was the light breeze that feathered her skin, followed by the sound of the rustling trees overhead. The rays from the afternoon sun glittered over her cheeks as the leaves swayed in the warm summer light. The ground below her was cool and mossy. One of the hands tucked behind her head briefly left its resting place to brush an errant strand of hair out of her face.

She was supposed to be counting, it was her turn to find him, but she'd gotten caught up in the perfect summer day.

"Where the heck have you been?" his voice cut through the birds singing in the trees and the frogs conversing down by the creek. She smiled without opening her eyes. She knew he'd come looking for her eventually.

"Hiding!" she joked as she peered up at him. His arms were crossed in front of his chest, and he rolled his eyes at her.

"If you didn't want to play anymore you could have just said so," he said, kicking at a tree root near his feet, "I can go find Nick and Joey…"

"No!" she shouted, instantly interrupting him. "Let's play. Just… something other than hide and seek."

He smiled, knowing she hated it when he left her to hang out with his friends from school.

"Fine," he said with a small smirk on his face. "Tag! You're it!" He tapped her shoulder and took off into the woods beyond the creek.

She dashed to her feet and sprinted after him.

Tag was a game she didn't like to lose, but he was faster than her. She soon lost him among the trees. Her sprint slowed to a walk as she carefully followed the echo of his laughter and the crunching of his feet among the fallen leaves.

"Don't lose me," she heard him taunt from not far up ahead. She caught sight of his blue shirt among the earthiness of the woods, and a quick flash of his bright eyes and big smile, before he turned and continued running deeper into the trees. She dashed after him once again.

"You can't lose me," his whisper carried over the wind.

Suddenly, everything went dark.

Her feet were bare, and the cold, hard concrete floor bit at her sensitive skin.

"What are you doing?" a voice hissed from behind her.

She turned; saw the small child who'd spoken. His face was smudged with weeks of dirt, marred only by the dried tracks of tears that were so common among all of them… especially in the dead of night. The scar that adorned his cheek should've scared her, but it didn't. She showed him the one on the back of her neck once, told him how she'd fallen from so far up in the tree. Told him how her best friend had saved her, and how she'd try to save all of them now. But that was months ago.

"I don't want to be here anymore," she said with a hitch in her breath. "I want to go home."

She turned away from him then, and kept moving towards the heavy door that held them prisoner.

She heard his feet hit the floor before his hand grabbed her arm.

"Please… don't," he begged, pulling her back around to face him… to face all of the other children she'd be leaving behind. "You know what happens if you get caught."

A chill of fear ran up her spine for she knew exactly what happened if they got caught. But it really was no different than what happened to them anyway. Pain was pain. Fear was fear. But what scared her most was that she was starting to forget. Forget who she was, and where she came from. Her mind only retained glimpses of her life from before... a cozy house, the woods, a creek, the boy with the blue eyes. It was all fading away, and she couldn't let it.

She pulled her arm from his and continued on towards the door. Her tiny hands wrapped around the handle.

"If you open it, he dies," the little boy said.

She stopped at that, inherently knowing his statement held a profound implication, but her head propelled her on... told her she couldn't stay there anymore. The need to break free outweighed his ominous words, so after sparing one more glance at him, she defiantly turned the knob, and pulled with all her might.

She blinked in confusion as she moved through the doorway; vest tight around her torso, weapon pointed at the unknown to her front. She turned her head at the movement behind her and saw Reade and Zapata at her three and nine. It confused her that Weller wasn't with them, wasn't leading the way, but instinctually she knew that he was what they were looking for.

At the end of the dank hallway rose another door. Her heart was beating wildly. She knew he was there, beyond that barrier, but the little boy's words rang in her head. _He dies._

She hesitated as she reached the door, and Reade gave her a questioning glance.

"On the count of three," he whispered then, motioning to take up position. As she readied her weapon, the arch tattoo on her arm grazed her sightline.

"One… two…"

Reade took down the door on three and they pushed through to see what was beyond.

"Hands up in the air! Put'em up!" Reade shouted as they entered the room.

Jane's eyes landed on Rich Dotcom. He held a knife in his hand and there was a body on the floor in front of him. He raised his hands slowly as a sinister smile spread across his face.

"I did it with my butterfly knife," Dotcom said, staring directly at her. Reade grabbed his arms then, forcing the knife to the floor. Reade cuffed Dotcom's hands behind his back and pushed him to his knees.

Blood… there was so much blood. As she inched forward, Jane saw that cut across the victim's neck was fresh. Blood still gurgled from the wound, running down his neck to puddle on the floor. She noticed the dark hair, the glasses, and the leather satchel that'd fallen to the floor.

"David," she whispered as she ran over and knelt down beside him. She covered the wound with her hands, trying to staunch the flow, but she knew it was too late. There was nothing she could do.

Still applying pressure, she closed her eyes… moisture gathering behind her lids. This was her fault. He was dead because of her. She didn't know how Patterson would ever forgive her.

"Jane."

She opened her eyes at the sound of his voice and looked around the room. Reade's weapon was aimed at Dotcom and Zapata was calling for an ambulance. Despite hearing him whisper her name, she didn't see Weller anywhere.

She turned back to David then, and what she saw made her scream. It was no longer David laying there on the floor… it was Weller.

Her hands lifted to her face in horror, the crimson staining her cheeks. His eyes were wide, lifelessly looking back at her.

"No!" she screamed, "Kurt!"

She shook his shoulders, trying to wake him up, but his body was heavy and cold.

"You did this."

Jane turned sharply at the accusation. Dotcom was still handcuffed and on his knees, but he taunted her just the same.

"This is your fault," he said laughing.

"Shut up!" Reade shouted, smacking Dotcom in the back of the head, but he just kept laughing.

The guilt instantly overwhelmed her as she turned back to Weller.

"Please, come back to me," she begged, sobbing. She wrapped her arms around him then. Her ear was pressed tightly to his chest, but there was no heartbeat, she heard nothing.

 _He dies._

* * *

"Jane…."

Her head was playing tricks on her. It must be. Her cheek was still heavy on his non-beating heart. The rise and fall of his lungs was non-existent, so how could he be calling her name?

"Jane…."

The last thing she wanted to see was his lifeless body lying before her, but she forced her heavy eyes open when she heard him call her again.

"Jane, hey… wake up. It's me."

As she blinked rapidly, Weller came into focus in front of her. A look of concern covered his face. She could feel the weight of his warm hands covering hers. Without thinking, she launched herself into his arms.

"Whoa Jane, what…" he started as he was pushed back, surprised, but his arms automatically encircled her, pulling her tight against him.

"You're alive," she whispered as she turned her cheek to his chest. She could hear his strong heartbeat loud and clear.

"Of course, I'm alive… why wouldn't I be?" he responded, confused by her actions.

She extracted herself from his arms as quickly as she'd wrapped herself around him. She took a step back and he could see the embarrassment on her face.

Her eyes left his to look around and suddenly it all made sense. Patterson. David. Shooting. Hospital. She spotted Patterson across the hospital waiting room, half-asleep. Zapata was next to Patterson, holding her hand... her eyebrow half-raised at Jane and Weller's recent interaction. Reade was standing in front of the TV mounted in the corner, watching a basketball game.

"I'm sorry," she said as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. "I think I was dreaming and…" She trailed off, averting his eyes. The images were still vivid in her mind. The warm summer day; the cold, dark place; the little boy with the scar on his face; Weller, lifeless in her arms.

"And what, Jane?" he pushed, placing his hands on her shoulders, steadying her.

"You died," she whispered, her eyes returning to his. "He told me you'd die… and you did."

"Who told you?" Weller asked.

She shook her head, not knowing how to explain.

"C'mon," he coaxed as he placed and arm around her shoulders, "let's take a walk."

* * *

He led her out of the waiting room and they walked slowly down the hall, his arm never leaving her shoulders.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Jane extracted herself from his grasp to sit on the windowsill. She crossed her arms in front of her chest as her gaze scanned the city street below.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Weller asked then.

Still staring out the window she shook her head.

Weller stuffed his hands in his pockets and stood behind her. It looked like he was staring out of the window as well, but Jane could see his eyes were actually on her reflection in the glass. She knew he was worried about her, about what she was thinking. Yes, she blamed herself for David's death. If it weren't for her tattoos, he would still be alive. But it was the picture of Weller's dead, lifeless body that kept invading her mind.

The boy in her dream, the first one with the blue shirt and the blue eyes, he'd told her not to lose him. The second boy had prophesized his death. And after, the man… the sinister, evil man had blamed her for it.

She knew now that David was only the start, and wondered how many more innocent lives would be lost while they followed her tattoos.

As they stayed there, staring out the window in silence, his body slowly gravitated towards hers, until his chest and stomach came to press against her back. Naturally drawn together, as they had been earlier that day during their undercover mission, she leaned her weight back into him, without even thinking, and closed her eyes.

Jane didn't know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere along the way he'd become her strength when she had none. He always knew exactly how to bring her back when she'd lost her way. Now, she relished in the simple, silent comfort and his steady, sturdy support. He was there. He was with her. He was alive.

His hand eventually made its way to her shoulder and she unconsciously reached up, entwining her fingers in his.

"It's going to be okay, Jane," he murmured then, squeezing her hand.

She knew then that it could be okay, that it would, as long as she did what the young blue-eyed boy had said. She couldn't lose him.


	7. Future

"Will I hold you again?"

\- DMB "The Space Between"

* * *

 _Based on the prompt: Future. Set during and after episode 1x10._

* * *

 _I wanted a moment that was just… us._

Us. It's a term that's as foreign to her as what cotton candy tastes like or who the actors and actresses are that are up for Oscars this year. But when she'd thought it, when she'd said it, she knew she'd wanted it… for that moment, and for all of the moments that would follow.

And it wasn't just about the looks he gave her that made her feel like no one else in the world had ever existed, the feel of his steady heartbeat below her palm, or the heart-melting smile that had crossed his face just before their lips had met once again. It was because he trusted her, respected her… thought her to be an equal. The ink that graced her skin didn't faze him in the least, and whether she was saving his life, or crying on his shoulder, his opinion of her never wavered. He never made her feel inferior. She felt like a whole person when she was with him. It was as simple as that.

Jane had learned a valuable lesson from the tragedy that was David's death… don't push away what's right in front of you. She and Weller had been dancing circles around each other since the day they'd met, and him being the upstanding man that he was, Jane knew it was up to her to close the distance.

As she walked away from Weller's apartment, she simply couldn't wipe the smile from her face. She kept replaying their moment in her mind. The light that had entered his eyes when he'd realized she was there only for him, the scrape of his stubble against her skin as his lips had slanted so perfectly to cover her own, the feel of his palm, first against her cheek, and then against her back as he'd inched her closer to him. Warmth spread steadily through her belly as even the most minute details were seared into her memory.

Perhaps that's why her unknown assailants got the jump on her… why she wasn't completely on guard. The first hit quickly jolted her back to reality, but it was already too late. If it had just been one, she was confident she would have been able to take him… but three, plus a bag over her head… it was simply too much.

Jane tried to steady herself as the van tossed her violently from one side to the other, but her efforts were futile. She hissed as her shoulder slammed into the side of the vehicle at a particularly sharp turn… the pain momentarily stopped her from trying to free her hands from their restraints.

At first she attempted to memorize the route they were taking, but without her eyes to help her, it was as if they were going in circles.

She did her best to control her breathing, to stem the panic that was rising in her throat. Not knowing who took her was her first problem, but the larger issue – the one that really concerned her – was that no one knew where she was. Sure, Weller had seen her walking away from his apartment, but by the time anyone figured out she was missing, the trail would be cold. The thought that she was on her own terrified her.

She didn't have time to dwell on that, however, because the van suddenly stopped.

Cool air entered the heated space as the door was thrust open, after which two sets of strong hands grabbed either of her arms and hoisted her out. She struggled against them… struggled to free herself, until a sharp hit to the back of her head made her instantly dizzy. She tried her best not to throw up as they dragged her to wherever they were taking her.

She heard a door open and knew she had been taken inside. She could smell the mustiness and feel the cold, dark of the place where she was. Pipes groaned overhead in the empty halls, competing with the echoes of their footsteps. Jane guessed she was in some type of warehouse.

After traversing a long, straight hallway, her feet fumbled as they dragged her down a set of stairs. She could feel the humidity rise and the temperature ticked up somewhat.

At the bottom of the stairwell, she was pushed through another door and dragged across a room. She cried out as her knees suddenly slammed into something solid. She was quickly lifted onto a table… maybe a bench. A third pair of hands descended on her shoulders as the restraints were cut from her wrists. Her arms weren't free for long though. She was pushed roughly to her back, her head hitting the hard surface with a sharp thud. Her hands were tied tightly below whatever it was she was laying on. She then felt a rope tied snuggly around her middle, holding her to the flat surface below her. Jane's shoulders screamed when she even attempted to move. Still unable to see, and with no one to help her, Jane's heart sank. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get out of this.

* * *

"Kurt… KURT!"

His head suddenly snapped up and his eyes came to rest on Sarah.

"Earth to Kurt," she teased. "Where did you go?"

"Sorry," he said, clearing his throat. He pushed his food around his plate, doing his best to make it look like he was actually eating what Sarah had made.

"What's going on?" she asked, concerned. "You've been somewhere else since you got back from the store."

"Sorry," he said again as he ate a small bite of chicken. "Work was kind of rough today… just trying to sort some things out from the case."

"Does what you're sorting out have anything to do with the fact that you can't stop smiling?" Sarah retorted, a playful smile spreading over her features.

His eyes widened with surprise as they shot to hers. He was totally busted.

"Sarah," he said, not quite sure how to explain. He'd promised his 9-year-old nephew just about everything short of the moon to keep his secret, and yet he'd failed to keep it himself. But every time he thought about what had just happened on the street below… he still couldn't believe it was real.

He knew things were complicated with Jane. Trying to be her friend, her colleague, trying to remain professional when he wanted to be anything but, and above all, trying to keep her safe and out of harms way. It was taking its toll on both of them.

What had surprised him the most though was how boldly Jane had crossed their invisible line. He knew that things had been changing between them lately, especially after their recent undercover mission. Every time he saw her after that day, his fingers ached to wrap tightly around her hips, to pull her close, to feel her body align so perfectly with his. But he never imagined that either of them would take that next step. There were too many unknowns, and making an already complicated relationship even more so… before tonight, he knew it just wasn't a possibility. But then he thought about her lips colliding with his, at first tentative, then full of want and need, and her hand as it had held tightly to his face, drawing him closer. It had been easy… effortless. He couldn't help but imagine what would have happened if Sawyer hadn't interrupted…

"Kurt!"

He jumped, startled. Dammit, he'd been caught again!

Frustrated and embarrassed, he rolled his eyes and sighed loudly.

"Mmhmm, I get it," she said with a laugh before he could get any words out. "Classified and all that…"

As aggravatingly nosy as his sister could be sometimes, for once, she was giving him an out. It was these moments that reminded him why he loved her.

"Yeah, classified," he agreed, offering her a grateful smile, before focusing once again on the food in front of him… and the mischievous green eyes that he couldn't wait to see in the morning.

* * *

As she lay alone in the darkness, Jane tried her best not to panic. Instead, she focused on something good, something solid. Her mind escaped back to the last moment she's shared with Weller, and then to all the moments that had preceded it. Each small moment that they'd shared since she met him had been special in its own way. Despite the craziness of their tattoo-fueled missions, and the interruptions that always seemed to cut their conversations short, he had still opened up to her. He'd still let her know him in a way that other people didn't.

It terrified her now that she might not get the chance to tell him how she felt. She wanted to tell him how grateful she was to him for showing her what true friendship was, and for showing her what total trust meant between two people. He'd given her solid building blocks to create a new life, when she'd had none. It meant more to her than he'll ever know.

And beyond that, she wanted to tell him that she wanted more… that she was ready for more… that they deserved more. She wanted it all.

Her image of a future filled with Weller disappeared as footsteps suddenly echoed across the floor, drawing her back to the present. Jane's heart started beating wildly. She instinctually knew it was time to find out why she was there.

"Sorry we have to meet again like this…"

Carter.

* * *

Try as he might, Weller couldn't fall asleep. After lying in bed for an hour, staring up at the ceiling, he'd decided to get up. Trying to focus on something other than Jane and that kiss, he turned on the TV, but it wasn't long until his thoughts were drawn back to her.

He lit up his cell screen then, but he still had no calls and no messages. He knew Jane hated it when he hovered, which was why she probably didn't call him back, but it would have been nice if she'd at least let him know she'd made it home.

He'd convinced himself that his earlier call was purely professional… that he needed to make sure she was home safe… and if he was honest, that was at least partially true. But he also knew that part of him just wanted to hear her voice.

Weller had been disappointed when he got her answering machine, but he left a message, hoping she'd call him back.

Now, hours later, he still hadn't gotten a response.

He believed her when she'd said _'I'll see you tomorrow,'_ so despite the want to call her again, he resigned himself to talking to her in the morning.

He turned off the TV then and headed back to bed… knowing he wouldn't be getting any sleep.

* * *

Jane entered the safe house through the same window from which she'd exited earlier that night. It had only been a few hours, but it seemed like a lifetime ago.

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as a peek out front indicated her security detail was still in place.

She looked around the room then, expecting things to be different, but everything looked the same. The pictures of her tattoos still adorned the walls, the blanket she'd haphazardly tossed on the couch was still half on one of the cushions and half on the floor, and her breakfast dishes were still in the sink. Everything was so familiar, yet she suddenly felt like a stranger in her own house.

The words played over and over in her head: _"You did this to yourself."_

 _But why?_ Her mind screamed. Why would anyone do this to themselves? What could be worth destroying your whole life? She'd been engaged… which meant she had been in love. Why would she throw away everything she'd known? Why would she throw away her future?

As she scanned the room further, she noticed that one thing was different. The little light built in to the cradle of her home phone was blinking red. She had a message.

Jane pulled her cell out of her pocket then, confused because she had no missed calls, but her curiosity got the better of her and she pressed the play button.

" _Jane, it's me. I just wanted to make sure you made it home okay."_

At the sound of his voice, so full of hope, she sunk onto a bar stool, and covered her face with her hands. She'd been so consumed with the video and with everything that Oscar had told her, she'd completely forgotten about Weller.

Tears spilled down her cheeks then as she recalled, for the hundredth time that night, the one perfect moment that they'd shared. Her heart filled with dread because she knew that what had happened couldn't happen again. She couldn't pull him further into the mess she'd created. It wasn't fair to him… to them. But what would she tell him?

 _Just… us._

She'd wanted it so badly. Wanted to be a part of something… to be close to someone. But that was gone now.

As hard as she tried, Jane couldn't stop the sobs that escaped her. She cried harder than she ever had before.

Everything she thought she'd had, had vanished in an instant.

* * *

 _A/N: Not happy to be ending on a sad note, but that's the reality of Jane's situation right now. I'm confident that Jane will find her way back to Weller... but then again, maybe she won't. Either way, I think she just needs to find herself first. Going to leave this as 'in progress' and hopefully come back to it during the summer hiatus (if more Tumblr prompts occur). Thanks so much for reading!_


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